Unrecognisable
by whydontyouallf-fadeaway
Summary: When Tim finds out Marcella's been sleeping rough after finding out she's dead, how will he react to seeing her in the state she's in? Post series two finale.
1. Chapter 1

It had been a couple of weeks since Tim last saw Marcella. It was strange to him that he hadn't seen her in the police station whilst he had been sorting out this embezzlement mess. He had texted, called, had been to her house and he even spent the night outside seeing if she returned home. But there was nothing, she had simply disappeared and he was starting to get worried.

After talking to Rav who had told Tim about everything that had happened with the case, what happened to Juliet and how she tried to jump off the roof but what he showed him a picture of, disturbed him; Marcella's cut off hair in a sink in the bathroom, blood dripping down the sides and her gold 'M' necklace put on top of it all.

Tim didn't know what to think when Rav showed him the state of the bathroom sink, but he knew that he had to find her more than anything. He got up off the chair in Rav's office and walked towards the door, "There's something else." Rav said, "I didn't want to be the one to tell you this." Tim turned and walked back towards the desk, "We found out that Marcella had squatted in a house the night she went off, the house was burnt to the ground. They couldn't identify the bodies, but one of them matched Marcella's DNA. I'm sorry, Tim. She's dead."

The words _She's dead_ rang through his head like a police siren, his breathing became more shallow and rapid and he wanted to scream. He tried to speak, but he just couldn't. It was as if all of the words he wanted say, shout and scream just was just being blocked and his mouth had stopped working. It was only a few weeks ago he was cooking for her, downing tequila shots in her kitchen and spending the night at her place and despite their difficulties of late, it suddenly dawned on him that he would never get the chance to do that ever again.

He stormed out of Rav's office to the nearest bathroom. As soon as he entered he leaned on the sink and looked in the mirror, his face was paler than before and all the colour had drained from the surface. It took him a few beats before he backed away from the mirror and moved towards a bin in the corner of the room and kicked it as hard as he could. It didn't do much damage so he kept stamping on it, stamping so there was nothing left to stamp on; the entire bin had disintegrated before he let out an almighty roar, until he couldn't scream any longer.

Out of breath, he tried to focus, but it was too much for him. He'd never dealt with something like this before; loss quite like this. Tears streamed down his face as he leant against the wall and slumped down to the ground, burying his head into his hands, he sobbed. From the moment he met Marcella all those years ago, he was in love with her and when he finally got his chance to show how much he did love her, he ruined it all, and he never got the chance to make it right. To him, she spent her last hours hating him because she thought he had betrayed her, something he'd never do and now there was no chance to explain it, and it killed him inside.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." he whispered to himself as he rubbed his temples furiously. None of this felt real to Tim and no matter how much he wished it was, this wasn't a dream. Everything that had mattered to him the most over the last few months was slipping away.

He took another deep breath and got up off of the floor, making his way to the sink. Running the water, he made his hands into a bowl shape and filled it before splashing it on his face to take down some of the puffiness from his eyes. He took another few minutes just trying to calm down, trying to collect his thoughts together, but he didn't know what he'd do without her, knowing that he never explained and just knowing how much he loved her.

 **·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

Tim left the police station and made his way back home to his flat. Even just sat in his car, driving home felt strange, like he knew that life wasn't going to be the same again. He kept think back to how far they had come; the moment he first met her over fifteen years ago, seeing her again after so long a few months ago and finally being able to call her his before he stupidly allowed her to let him go so easily without even putting up a fight.

As he drove, he kept remembering the picture Rav showed him, and the words _she's dead_ kept repeating in his mind. He started to lose focus and he knew if he didn't park his car up soon, he was going to cause an accident. Driving down the road, he saw an empty space coming up on the left so he parked into it and turned off the engine, and that's when it happened again; the tears and the anger. The tears streamed down his cheek and dripped onto the jacket sleeve of his arm that was still extended and gripping to the wheel. Anger soon followed when he started to think of all the things he should've said to Marcella in that kitchen instead of just giving her the key without a fight. How he made a stupid, regrettable comment about all the people that had left her life. And how he'd let his ambition cloud his realisation of everything good he had in his life.

The steering wheel started to take a bashing when he began hitting it repeatedly with the palm of his hand until he could barely feel it any more. He let out a shaky breath and ran his hand down his face. Taking off his seatbelt, he opened the door and got out of the car, letting the the air and the spits of rain hit his skin. Tim felt exhausted and emotionally drained. Every time he thought of all of this, he felt like breaking down but he started to feel like he had nothing left to give. If he wasn't in such a built up area full of houses of people sleeping, he would just scream again like he did in the bathroom.

He wondered if he was in any state to drive but he had to get home. After taking a few deep breaths he got back in his car and finally made his way back to his flat.

 **·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

Tim spent the next few days sat at home, barely leaving his flat. He'd lost his appetite, barely slept and drunk himself stupid, and he only just managed to have a shower a day. All he wanted was to see Marcella again, even if it was just for a moment; just seeing her face is all he wanted, he had pictures but it wasn't enough.

He couldn't help but wonder what Marcella was even doing squatting in a house when she had a perfectly good home. He looked into it, well, he got Rav to and he still didn't feel it made any sense. But all he really wanted was to have her back.

Tim remembered about what they say about the stages of grief, he was going through all of them, except the last one, and all in the wrong order. Depression was the stage he knew he had reached, and bargaining and denial is constantly going to be there. He had already done the anger part and he stopped wanting to smash up everything he saw. Acceptance wasn't going to happen. Ever. Bargaining was how he felt now in the midst of him drinking himself deeper into a depression, he kept thinking about the "What Ifs"; What if he had told her the truth and they stayed together, what if he had been at the police station that night and he could've stopped her, what if he knew quicker she was sleeping rough and hadn't gone home so he could've helped her sooner. So many what ifs and too late to do anything about them.

He had lost count of the amount of beers he had drunk in the last few days. The amount of bottles scattered around his living room wasn't anywhere close to how much and he still didn't feel drunk, he was just sad and numb.

It was gone 3:00am, nowhere was open but he couldn't stand that he was still awake and still drinking. Every time he looked at a green beer bottle, it reminded him of her. It was the same beer he had drunk with her on several occasions, but it was his favourite and he just needed it.

The night time was the only time he felt comfortable leaving his flat; being in the light of the day sky felt too exposing to him, he looked awful and he knew it. He put on a hoodie and left, he didn't know where he was going, he just needed a walk.


	2. Chapter 2

Every road, every corner he turned down had people sleeping on the streets. He'd be lying if he said it was something he noticed much, but now, it's all he can see. He had spent time in Marcella's house so he kept thinking why she would think that here was better than that; if she didn't want to go home, she could come to him, or Rav or even Jason. Anyone, anywhere surely would've been better than what he was seeing.

He started to walk under a bridge, and the bodies shifted as they tried to get comfortable on the hard surfaces of the floor or the lumpy mattresses they find. As he walked down the road he passed one of the homeless people who sat up, "Tim?" a weary voice asked.

The voice sounded like Marcella's but he knew it was just the grief making him think like that. Tim frowned and turned, looking at someone wearing a coat with a fluffy hood. He can see her face, it looks like her, but he wouldn't believe it. "No." he said in shock, not believing what he sees. Closing his eyes, he shakes his head trying to make his eyes focus on whoever it really is, he saw Marcella, but he knew it couldn't be. How could it when she's supposed to be dead? He looks even harder, but doesn't move and the face is still the same one he saw moments before, "Marcella?"

She takes down her hood and Tim looks at her, he doesn't know what to think. He rushed over to her and hugs her tightly, she doesn't respond to it, her arms staying by her side. Breaking off the hug, he took a proper look at her and his eyes glassed over with tears and he felt his chest tightening with emotion. How has she gotten herself into this?

Tim kept looking on the huge gash on her cheek, realising that the blood in the sink made sense. It looked infected, full of yellow, green-ish pus and the skin around it was a worsening dark pink colour. "Rav told me you were dead." he said. Everything about what he was seeing broke his heart just as much as the last few days have and he hardly recognised her any more. Was this the same woman he fell in love with all those years ago?

He thought seeing her again was what he wanted, but not like this. Marcella hadn't looked at him once since he came over to her, and each time he tried to make her, she looked in a different direction. "Marcella! Talk to me, please? Let me help you." he pleaded.

There was no answer. His legs began to cramp in the crouching position he was in so he moved to sit next to her, leaning against the wall and even then she shuffled further away from him and he felt his chin begin to quiver as he tried to keep the tears inside.

All he wanted was to help her. She looked like he felt, sad, drained and like she wanted help but couldn't ask for it. Tim knew everything, and the only way he thought she might open up was if he mentioned it, "Rav also told me about Juliet, what really happened. I'm sorry, Marcella." He licked his lips and lowered his head, she was so far away from him and he just wanted to reach out to her, hold her like he used to. "Look, come back to mine, just for tonight and please, let me at least clean up that wound properly."

Maybe Tim had fallen asleep on the sofa and he was just imagining all this, at least that's what he hoped. But he wasn't, this was real. The last few days had been the worse days of his life and what he wanted to happen has but this was making him feel much worse than it was better

"Why did you call my name if you didn't want me to come over?" he asked. "I find out you're dead, and it turns out you're not. You call my name when I'm walking down a street and expect me to just walk past?" Tim started to feel like he was talking to the brick wall he was sat leaning against, she still wouldn't talk, and he knew that she could say something.

He stood up, knowing that he could be back at home drinking yet more beers and that this began to feel like a waste of time. Looking down at her, he wanted her to say something, anything but Marcella wasn't behaving like she wanted any help, and if she did, she was going the wrong way about it.

But to her, he wouldn't understand. All that she did back in that police station was to take everything about her old life away, she didn't want to be Marcella Backland any more, she didn't know what she wanted. Having Tim close to her again was both comforting and awful for her. He was the person she started to trust most in the world, like she used to trust Jason, and like Jason, he betrayed her, or at least she thought he did, but she never gave him a chance to explain. She wanted to reach out to him, the same as Tim wanted to to her but if she did that, she felt that she would return to being that vulnerable mess that she was trying to put behind her.

As he started to move off, she grabbed his sleeve and finally looked up at him. The light from a nearby street light made her look much worse than he initially thought, and his heart began to feel like it was breaking all over again. She still didn't say anything though, but he crouched back down and looked at her, "If you want my help, you have to come with me." he encouraged her, placing his hand on her left cheek; the one that was unscathed.

Looking away again, Marcella thought to herself, she didn't know whether to go. On the one hand, she liked that he still cared enough to want to help her, but on the other, she was trying so hard to forget the life she had before and anything or anyone that might set her back was the people she was trying to forget. And she still couldn't forget about Tim and Maya; all the trust he placed in him to not be like Jason and that's all she thought of him when she found out he was sleeping with Maya.

 **·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

The journey from the bridge to Tim's flat was a quiet one, Marcella still hadn't spoken to him no matter how hard he tried to get her to open up to him. They reached his front door and he opened it and allowed her to walk in, "Do you want a beer or something? Soemthing to eat?" he asked, as Marcella sat down, surrounding by a seemingly never ending pile of empty beer bottles. She nodded her head once and he smiled at her, trying anything to provoke any kind of other emotion from her.

Marcella sat on the sofa in Tim's flat, she had been there before but she felt odd, like she shouldn't be there, the world around her was surreal. Rummaging through a first aid box, Tim didn't know what he was doing, but he found some information online that he decided to follow. He knew that she really needed a trip to the hospital or a doctor but it was going to take a bit more persuading for that, so for now, he could only clean it and dress it as best he could. He found a dressing big enough to dress her wound afterwards and he placed it on the counter. He turned on his hot tap and waited for it to become warm before putting a bowl in the sink and filling it up and adding two heaped tablespoons of salt to the solution.

Walking over to her, he set the bowl on the table after he moved some of the empty beer bottles and joined her on the sofa. He gave her a reassuring smile just so she knew he could trust him but her face stayed the same as it had done since he saw her again. "This might hurt, so I'm, erm... Sorry." he warned her before soaking a flannel in the water and applying it to the wound.

Her head backed away slightly when he applied the cloth but Tim had to bring it back, he needed to clean it. Marcella had started to forget the discomfort and the pain it was causing her so the feeling was a shock to the nerves. Tim could see her face grimacing and hearing the noise of her sucking air and saliva through her teeth was enough to know she wasn't comfortable. "Ahh." she yelled a little at the pain when he hit a certain part of her wound.

"Sorry." he replied as he tried to make his actions more gentle.

The pus within the wound covered the section of the flannel within moments of being applied and he immediately started to use other clean parts of it and after twenty minutes, it started to look much cleaner. He filled the cloth once more and forced her to tilt her head to the left and he squeezed the water out into the open gash of her skin. When he put his things down earlier, he brought a hand towel with him and he began using it to dry the water from the wound as best he could. He then applied some anti-septic cream and allowed it to soak in whilst he finished getting the dressing ready.

Unravelling a large part of dressing he folded it up into a rectangle and grabbed some medical tape, cutting it into four sections and sticking it to the table for easy access. He got even closer to her and it made her feel like she wanted to back away but she knew that he was only trying to help. Taking the folded up dressing he held it gently above the wound and ripped the first piece of tape from the table to hold a side of it in place and he repeated it until he was finished sticking it in place. "Done." he informed her. He didn't expect a thank you but he wanted her to say something. "You can take my bed, I'll take the sofa."

Marcella rose from the sofa and made her way upstairs, still not saying a word and she hadn't done since she got there. Tim didn't know what to do next, sleep was even more out of the question than it had been the last few days. He slumped down on the sofa with a crash, and he just sobbed; sobbed at thinking that's what she had reduced herself to. He blamed himself, why wouldn't he? The whole case was a fucking nightmare for all of them, but the Whitmans involvement with it messed everything up; well, for him personally anyway.

The embezzlement accusation was slowly being cleared up and he hoped to see himself back in the job soon. But that wasn't what upset him the most. A week or two ago, he was happily downing tequila shots with the woman upstairs, the woman he proudly called his girlfriend. They only saw it as a casual thing, at first, but even he started to see her as that and then, she was more than just 'the woman upstairs', she was DS Marcella Backland.

Now, he doesn't even recognise her anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

The dark patches under Tim's eyes were getting darker by the day and he still didn't feel like sleeping. The sun was starting to rise and he had spent the last couple of hours sat in silence drinking yet more beers and he was surprised there was any left. He couldn't believe the events of the last few weeks, he was close to losing his job, he already fucked up his own private case, and he lost one of the only woman he's ever cared about.

The woman who, a few days ago, was supposedly dead. He heard footsteps as they made their way down the stairs and he stood up, "Good morning." he greeted her, a little comforting smile appearing on his face and for the first time since seeing her, he saw a tiny hint of one from her.

The emotions within him stirred every single time he looked her. Was this really the same woman who dealt with almost anything life threw at her? Was it the same woman who caught murderers and all kinds of criminals with her amazing intuition and instinct? He knew that the old Marcella was still in there somewhere, but he had to start digging deep for it; he couldn't bear to see her back on the streets. But first, he needed her to get to a professional with her injury.

"You should really get to the hospital with that, Marcella." he said, looking at the dressing that had a green streak where the wound was still seeping through. Tim thought that her having somewhere decent to sleep would give something about the old Marcella back, but she still stood there looking lacklustre and she somehow looked worse than she did at 4:00am. "At least let me clean it for you again."

Her walk was slow and it lacked the energy it used to as she walked to the sofa and sat down. In the kitchen, Tim put on the kettle to make her a hot drink and filled up another bowl of warm water in the sink, before taking it all back over to her.

Sitting back next to her, she still barely looked at him. Whenever she caught his eye, she immediately looked away, as if she knew she'd be drawn back in if she allowed herself to look at him as Tim was the only friendly face she had seen in the last couple of weeks. Being around him, Marcella couldn't forget what they had, he was the only good thing she had in her life and she missed him and even looking at him reminded her of the person she was.

He soaked up the cloth with the water, "Turn your head." he told her and she moved her head to look to the left. Squeezing out the excess water, he pressed it to the gash after removing the old dressing and cleaned it for her again before redressing it. "There, done." he smiled as he packed away the first aid kit. "I can make you some breakfast if you want?"

Marcella didn't answer, she just grabbed her coat and left his flat and Tim turned when the door slammed. The cutlery hit the plate as he moved to rush out and follow her.

"Marcella! Marcella, wait! Please." he called out, moving towards her so she had stopped walking and let him say what he wanted. Tim placed his hands on her upper arms, "Look, I get it, okay? I get that after all you have been through you just want to run away. But you can't, okay? You just can't. I know it doesn't feel like it but there are people out there who care about you and they love you."

Marcella turned her head away, she hadn't heard that in a long time and it made her feel like she was going to cry, something she had tried her hardest not to do, at least not in front of anyone.

"I love you, Marcella. As my friend, my girlfriend, the woman I'm hopelessly in love with, whatever you want. I love you. And I want to help you, because, this isn't you." Tim licked his lips and bowed his head, looking down at the damp concrete floor that leads towards his flat.

"Why would anyone still love me?" she mumbled. The pain of her cut and the dressing on top made it almost impossible for her to speak, but after a good 6 hours of seeing him with not saying a word, she finally managed it. He lifted his head and looked at her, and their eyes met, properly for the first time since he walked out of her house, "Look at me. Look at who I've become. No one should ever still love this. Not even you. I don't deserve any help."

Her talking like this broke his heart, despite what has happened in her life, what she's done, she still deserves the love he has for her. It may not seem like it, but deep in there, Marcella Backland was still burning bright.

"Yes you do." he said, clasping her good cheek again, "Somewhere, the old you is in there, whether you see it or not. I still see it, you're as stubborn as ever, that's one thing." he said, trying to make a little joke out of it, he just wanted to make her laugh like he used to.

A light chuckle came from Marcella, but even that hurt her face and she looked at him again, and smiled enough to make Tim do the same.

"But on top of all of that, I miss you. I miss what we had. And despite all of this, everything, I see the woman I've always wanted. So, you're wrong about not deserving it, because if people can see past that, like I do, you deserve everything good. So, Marcella, I am asking – actually, scrap that. I am begging that you let me help you. Let me get you back to the way you were."

"I can't." Marcella murmured and Tim frowned, tilting his head to the left in confusion. "Laura wants me to go undercover."

"Laura?" he questioned. Tim couldn't bear here going deep undercover like that, he;d only just managed to get her to talk, he couldn't just let her go all over again. "No, you can't. I mean, please don't."

"Why?" she asked, her face looking a little angry.

"You're in no state for that."

"What? Just because I've done this, it suddenly means I'm a bad officer?" she managed to argue back, despite the pain and the discomfort.

Tim didn't want to argue with her, he just wanted to make things right, and he couldn't bear knowing that he may not see her for a long time if she did this, "No, I didn't say that. I just – I – I want us to be okay again, I want to at least talk to you before you go off and do this and I want to make sure you're fit for it."

"There is no 'us' anymore, Tim. You ruined that when you slept with Maya. Yeah, I hadn't forgotten that."

"I never slept with her, and I never cared more about that foundation more than I cared about you." he replied, "And that is exactly the thing I _need_ to talk to you about."

Marcella thought for a minute, she still hadn't accepted the undercover offer, and she didn't have to if she wanted to get back to normal. But she wasn't sure. What Tim said to her should be enough to make her think otherwise, but she had spent all this time trying to forget about the life she had before this, and that meant him. She shook her head and looked at him, "No. This isn't about that. I'm doing the undercover, I'm sorry, Tim." she told him. She brushed past him, and tried to walk as quickly as she could.

"Marcella?" Tim called, and his voice made her stop. He rushed over and stopped behind her, "Please, just stay one more night and let me just clean that a couple more times and then tomorrow, I'll let you go, if that's what you want."

She didn't turn, she couldn't. It was a tempting offer, but she couldn't let herself be sucked back into him, as much as she wanted to; at least not yet. There was a reason that she did what she did that night, she wanted to reinvent herself as the woman who didn't kill her own baby, or be allowed to be manipulated by Jason or her own children, or be the Marcella she was.

As she began walking away, she didn't say a word, each step she took made Tim's chest tighten and it felt like he was losing her all over again. "Marcella? Marcella?" he called, but she kept walking. He watched her as she went out of his sight, and he rushed back to his flat. Picking up one of the many beer bottles scattered across the room and threw it and watched it smash into millions of pieces, and roared loudly again.

He thought he had got through to her, but he didn't and he just let her go again. It hurt him, just as much as thinking she was dead did. He couldn't live without her, but what was he supposed to do if this is what she wanted?


	4. Chapter 4

_2 Weeks Later_

Tim thought his mood would've improved since seeing Marcella again, but in fact, it was exactly the same. Sleep was still almost non-existent, he was still barely eating – bar a few bowls of cereal and slices of toast – and his liver was still taking a pretty unhealthy battering with the alcohol he was consuming. His hair was unkempt, the unshaven stubble along the bottom part of his face hadn't been removed in almost three weeks and it was growing more by the day; but he had no energy or motivation to do anything about it.

Every time he closed his eyes to even attempt to sleep, he saw her, walking away. In the last three weeks he's probably only managed a few days worth of sleep; he was tired but the beers seemed to mask the full affects of his exhaustion.

He wanted to kick himself for letting her go, again, he thought he was so close to getting her to stay and now, he may not see her for ages, if at all. He understood it was for her career; it's beneficial for police officers to undertake some kind of undercover work at some point, but it was difficult for him knowing that she was out there alone like that. God knows what sort of case she was involved in and Tim knew that undercover work could be a dangerous job.

Tim's reached for his mobile on the table, and scrolled through his contacts. He knew that trying to phone Marcella was a futile act but he tried anyway; unsurprisingly to him there was no answer, there wasn't even a voicemail greeting from her any more. When scrolling through the contacts again, he realised he still had Laura Porter's number, the former DCI of Marcella's team, so he called her instead, "Hello?" a voice on the other end of the phone said.

Tim cleared his throat – trying to return his voice to a normal state – before he replied, "Hi, Laura. It's Tim, Williamson. I know you probably can't discuss any of this but I want to check if Marcella's doing okay."

"Marcella?" she asked, the confusion evident in her tone.

Tim frowned to himself, "Yeah, she said you wanted her to go undercover." she informed him. Even Laura sounded as baffled as he was.

"We did, she never accepted or turned up to see me so someone else went in her place."

"You mean she's not gone undercover?"

"No, sorry."

He rubbed his hand over his face in a tiredly frustration and sighed, "Okay. Thank you." he immediately hung up and lobbed it onto the soft surface of the settee he was sat on.

Tim was confused. If she wasn't undercover, then where the hell was she? He rushed upstairs, found some clean clothes and forced himself to have a quick shower. Being in no state to drive, he lived too far away to get to Marcella's house quick enough by walking so he called himself a cab.

 **·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

The taxi pulls up outside Marcella's house, Tim had no idea if she even still owned the house and he handed money to the driver, "Cheers, mate." he said as he stepped out of the vehicle.

It had been a while since he had been anywhere near her house but he hoped she would've at least gone back there for some decent sleep. He took a deep breath and bashed the knocker attached to her door and waited, but there was no answer.

Crouching down he opened the letterbox and looked through, "Marcella?" He looked down to the floor through through the opening and the piles of letters suggested that she still hadn't been home at all. "Marcella? Are you in there?"

Tim realised she wasn't home, nor had she been and he didn't know what to do. There was a part of him that thought undercover work would've been better for his peace of mind, at least he knew that she would be somewhat looked after by the police. But with her being off alone, probably back sleeping rough, he just needed to find her again, and this time, he wasn't going to let her go.

He went back to his flat and looked through some of the pictures on his laptop, printing one off of Marcella and just stared at it. The picture reminded him of the old times, Marcella with the smile that he missed so much and it made him realise how much he had lost, and how much he'd do anything to get her back. Walking over to his sofa with it still in his hands, he sat down and used his finger to glide it down her face in the picture, "I'm sorry, Marcella." he whispered to himself before breaking down in tears again, which is something he seemed to do a lot over the past month.

When night began to fall, he drunk more beers before heading out again; he had to find Marcella. Taking the photo with him, he took the opportunity to show it to every person he saw, concentrating more on the homeless people who lined the streets. He had got through quite a few of them before he reached the bridge he found her under last time.

As he walked through, a figure, wearing Marcella's coat sat looking away from him and he made his way over to them, "Marcella?" he called as he turned them around but it wasn't her. "Sorry." he said as he backed away, "Actually, hold on, where did you get that coat?"

Tim crouched down next to the woman. Dirt covered her face and hands, caking through her fingernails, grease lined her dirty hair, and she was rather skinny due to lack of food; Tim deduced she had probably been in this situation for a while. He took out his wallet and took out some money.

"Look, here..." Tim said, handing over a £10 note. He held up the picture of Marcella, "Was it her? Did she give the coat to you?" he began getting frustrated and he knew he was starting to scare the woman so he softened his voice, "Listen, okay, she's my friend, she means a lot to me, so please, do you know where she is?"

"She – she was here a few nights ago. I haven't seen her since." her shaky voice informs him. "But you could try down about three streets away, a load of us sleep down there."

"Thank you." Tim replied, giving her another £10 for her help. He rubbed her upper arm in a friendly manner and stood up, making his way to the location the woman directed him to.

As soon as he began walking down the road, he counted at least 14 people all trying to sleep. A couple were elderly, some were not much different from his own age, some were even young adults and at least 3 of the people had a baby or young child in their arms. It made him sad to see all these people sat on the damp floor in the cold without a home or shelter to go to, and to know that somewhere, one of them was likely to be Marcella made him feel even worse.

He showed the picture to every one on the street and they all shook their head, and a few reiterated to him that she was sleeping here the last couple of nights. Tim stood, looking around at everyone, before sitting on the floor and leaning his back on the wall. Holding the photo out in front of him, he fixated on her smile again, and that's when he decided; he wasn't returning home without her and he was prepared to sleep under this bridge or on any street until he found her.

Tim had to make himself look more like a homeless person if he was going to start getting them to open up to him and help him. He took off his watch, ruffled his hair and purposely dirtied and ripped up his jogging bottoms and t-shirt. He took off his coat and used it to cover himself like a blanket and tried to sleep, but seeing as he barely got any at home, he didn't hold out much hope of getting any elsewhere.

Every time he heard someone make any movement down the street, he jerked up, checking on who it was, hoping it was her. She could be on the other side of London by now but he thought she might come somewhere a little more familiar. It was approaching 4am and Marcella hadn't made a return under the bridge that she had been the past few nights so Tim stood up and walked towards another street.

He began to feel exhausted, the lack of sleep he was getting was starting to catch up with him and he started to feel as if he was close to collapsing in a heap onto the ground, but no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't even sleep without Marcella by his side, or at least knowing she was safe.

Tim wandered the streets as the sun rose and the sky brightened. He still refused to return home and he knew that the shelters were best to be checked in the morning as a lot of them gathered for some kind of breakfast so he made his way to the nearest one to him, and prayed that Marcella didn't stray that far away from the area.

 **·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

As he walked through the door, he caught the sight of himself in the glass. He knew he looked terrible; he saw his growing hair sticking out from all directions, his facial hair was becoming the longest he's ever grown it with it greying in places and the dark circles under his eyes were becoming even darker than they were. This wasn't the man he thought he'd end up being.

Tim looked around at the people gathered for breakfast, and had to blend in. He hadn't been out much during the day since all of this happened and everything he was trying to hide was now being seen by everyone. Putting the hood of his hoodie back up, he placed some cereal in a bowl before pouring in some milk and sitting at one of the tables. Opposite him was a man of similar age to him and they gave each other a friendly smile. Tim wasn't in an eating mood, and he hadn't been for the last few weeks and instead starting poking aimlessly at the flakes floating in the milk with his spoon.

Taking out the picture he looked at it before sliding it over to the man opposite him, "Have you see this woman here at all?" he asked, "She's a friend of mine." Tim smiled at him, and the man took the photo and looked at it.

The man sniffed and wiped his nose and mouth with his sleeve and looked at the photo of Marcella, "Er, yeah, she was here yesterday. I saw her walking towards Clapham Common last night. She looked a bit different, like. But I'm sure it was her." he told him as he ate the rest of the breakfast in front of him, shoving it in like there's no tomorrow. Tim watched him as he ate like he hadn't in weeks. It wasn't the way he was eating, that didn't bother him, it was the fact that the poor guy was eating like it was his first proper meal in some time and that upset Tim; not just because of Marcella, but also just seeing all the people sleeping out at night-time, being on the streets with them, he realised that there were so many people in the same boat.

But he'd be lying if Marcella didn't play a huge part in everything he was feeling and everything that was going on. It had been two weeks since he let her walk away again and it was becoming much harder to find her. Every time Tim started to feel he was getting close to getting her back, she seemed to move elsewhere and he knew that she probably wouldn't be near Clapham Common tonight, but he was willing to try everywhere until he found her.

Being outside in the broad daylight was still far to exposing for him, he hadn't left his flat much at all the past month, and he was only out of it now because he couldn't bear going back to it without finding her. So Tim had to lay low until night fell again as far too many people knew who he was, mainly the police officers who patrolled the streets of London, but he didn't want to be out in the day anyway.

Tim stayed at the shelter until the sun began to set, and it was still quite early in the evening which meant that he could cover a lot of ground if he wanted, which he did. He was about an hour away from Clapham Common where the man back in the shelter told him he saw Marcella go in there last night so he started walking in that direction, and maybe, just maybe, he'll find her.

He showed her picture to every person he passed as he made his way down towards the Common and he couldn't believe that not one of them hadn't seen Marcella at all. Surely she hadn't moved that far away since last night, but nobody had seen her, and those who did pointed him in directions that she was no longer there.

He took his watch from his pocket, and looked at the time; 11:00pm. Walking down the streets that surrounded the Common, he noticed more people sleeping on the streets and walked over to one of them leaning up against a brick walk, Hey, have you seen this woman?" he asked the man as he held up the picture of Marcella.

"I saw her near the Common about 2 hours ago." he croaked. Tim could see the man looked unwell,but he also knew it was likely due to a withdrawal from some kind of drug. He felt like he should give him some money for his help; he felt bad if he didn't but the police officer in him knew that he'd be funding him to take something illegal rather than buying himself food.

"Thanks." Tim said. He couldn't just walk away from him; he'd seen too many people sitting homeless on the streets with so many just walking past and it wasn't in Tim's nature to just ignore the ones that have been helping him find the woman he loves and saving her from all of this. Taking out more money from his wallet, he gave £10 to the man for helping him. "Here, get yourself some food." he encouraged him, knowing it'll probably be spent on something else.

Tim walked down back towards the Common, and searched the entire area. He started to feel as if he could barely walk, like he was going to faint at any minute; he had a headache, he felt dizzy, every inch of his body was aching to the point of being in pure pain and he just wanted to sleep.

Marcella was still nowhere to be seen and despite supposedly being here only two hours ago, she had disappeared again. Tim started to feel as if he was moving one step forwards and two steps back but he still refused to give up finding her. Slumping down onto a bench, he immediately started to feel more of the aching of his muscles and bones and the throbbing in his head felt as if his brain was going to burst through his ears. He could barely keep his eyes open for the first time in a month so he lay down on the bench and closed his eyes with only his hoodie to keep himself warm in the low temperature. And for the first time in a long time, he felt he was actually going to get a decent nights sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Tim took a deep breath that brought him out of his slumber, it surprised him that the sun was starting to rise and that he managed a good five hours of non-stop sleep but he somehow felt more tired than he did when he drifted off last night.

As he sat up on the bench, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and took a moment to get his bearings of the Common and he kept feeling himself dozing back off. He had gotten more sleep on a park bench than he had in his own flat but he was just glad to get something. His muscles still ached and throbbed, he was beginning to feel unwell and the most worryingly to him was that he was desperate for a beer; the beers that he had drunk so much of over the last few weeks that he was practically living off of it. He wasn't an alcoholic, and he wouldn't allow himself to become one, but he had found so much solace from it during the awful few weeks that he was finding it slightly difficult to not at least crave one. But Tim had to try and stop himself to be called by his need for some alcohol.

There was another shelter close by that Tim was going to check this morning. He hoped that if Marcella was still close by and she was hungry enough to at least pop in. Scratching his hair and beard, he stood up and took out the photo he had of Marcella again, it made him feel better to look at it gave him hope each day that he'll find her soon.

He made his way out of the park and to the homeless shelter nearby. Every time he was directed somewhere new, he began praying to himself she'd be in there and each time he was disappointed but he couldn't seem to stop reciting the same words of prayer in his head that it was becoming like a mantra.

As he walked in, he immediately looked around hoping the familiar sight of Marcella will greet him, but again, it didn't. He wasn't hungry for any food but he needed somewhere to lie low until the evening, so he started to ask everyone in the shelter whether they had seen her. The people at this shelter seemed to be much more helpful than the others; where most of them hadn't seen her in a few days, they all said she has been hanging around the area. Tim wasn't getting his hopes up though, he had been close too many times and each time ended in disappointment.

Sat at one of the tables, a woman joins Tim, "The woman you're looking for." she said eating a spoonful of the cereal in front of her, "I saw her sleeping outside Clapham Junction station last night. She was still there about an hour ago." his eyes widen in surprise and the hope returned though he knew it'll be briefly.

"Thank you." he replies before rushing out of the shelter. Outside, the daytime blinded him, like a vampire who had been hit with direct sunlight. He made the short walk down to the train station after put his hood up again to shield himself from being too exposed in the daytime.

He scoured the entire station but she had gone. Tim just wanted to scream, whenever he got close, it felt like he was getting further away from her and he couldn't stand it. He thought he got rid of the anger stage of grief, but he could feel it burning up inside him again, the need to punch every wall, throw every object until there was nothing left.

Letting out a large sigh, he sat on the bench on the platform, "Fuck." he quietly said to himself, even though he wanted to shout it as loud as he could. Tim put his head in his hands before running his fingers through his hair, taking a handful of it and pulling. He was feeling frustrated, pissed even and he began to wonder whether all of this was worth it; but he knew it was, this was Marcella and still realised he couldn't do without her.

Tim spent a long time just sat at the Station as he needed a change of scenery that was different from a shelter but he started to feel bored just watching the trains go by. So he took himself out and walked around the area before eventually settling back in the Common until night fell again.

 **·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

When it did, he was conflicted about where to spend the night, Clapham Common or Clapham Junction Station, not that it mattered seeing as wherever he decided to sleep, she never turns up or she moves on. The rain hammered down soaking through his hoodie and the chilly air made him cold to his bones and he shivered as he walked back down to the station.

Outside the station, one other person sits outside, it wasn't her, he could tell that straight away but he took the opportunity to ask the lady if she had seen Marcella this evening. He walked over to her and crouched down, "Hey." he whispered softly before holding up the crumpled, worn and damp photo of her, "Have you seen her this evening?"

The woman shook her head, she looked terrified and Tim didn't want to push it any more so he just left her alone, but he made sure that he sat in the right place to keep an eye on her from afar.

The rain hammered down heavier and heavier and sleep was completely out of the question for him. He pulled his knees into his chest and began humming a tune, _"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone. It's not warm when she's away. Ain't no sunshine when she's gone. And she's always gone too long. Anytime she goes away."_ Tim sung quietly to himself. He didn't know where the song in his head came from, but it suddenly reminded him of Marcella and it made him feel sad again, but for some reason, he couldn't stop singing it. _"Wonder this time where she's gone. Wonder if she's gone to stay. Ain't no sunshine when she's gone. And this house just ain't no home. Anytime she goes away."_ he sung more, his voice struggling to get the words out as he shivered in the cold.

The rain masked the tears that began falling from his eyes but his emotion was interrupted by a rowdy commotion coming from across the road. When he looked up, two drunk guys were hassling the woman he spoke to earlier, throwing her belongings into the rain puddles.

"Hey!" he shouted as he marched over. "Piss off, leave her alone." he ordered the two men.

The taller man got into Tim's face, "Or what?" he threatened him. The man's breath stunk of alcohol and it wafted in his face, which was just making him want a drink himself.

Tim scoffed a chuckle, and shook his head, the spits of rain falling from his growing beard, "Do you really want to find out? You're both pissed, it's pouring down with rain and people like you make me sick. Now go home." he ordered them.

They started to walk away, staggering as they walk but as one began to move off, he swung round and his fist struck his face, making him stagger backwards. The blood poured from his nose and settled on his facial hair, making it seem even darker in dim lighting from the street lights. Tim wasn't going to fight, he simply didn't have the energy to even make a fist, let alone throw a punch and his reluctance to engage in a fight eventually made them leave.

"You alright?" he asked the woman as he picks up the little of her stuff and handed it back to her.

The woman still wouldn't speak but she nodded her head slowly. Tim didn't want to just walk away from her, but she obviously didn't want any company. So he slowly made his way back to where he was sat.

As he began walking, the rain continued to fall heavily, he started to sing again, _"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone. Only darkness every day."_ he reached a bench when he sang and the last line made him break down again and he stopped singing. It made him realise what life without Marcella has turned into, and the song says it best; 'Darkness every day'. Since sniffing the beer on that man's breath, he's felt the need to have one, and seeing as he refuses to return home, he didn't fancy exposing himself to a ton of punters in a pub and all the shops were closed, he had to make do without for now, but he was getting desperate.

He knew that his whole situation was becoming desperate; he wanted a drink of alcohol, he wanted Marcella, and he wanted to get off the streets and go back home which he refused to do without her. He didn't even have to look at himself to know that he looked awful, he saw that the other day but he felt it too. The nausea, the exhaustion, the crippling anxiety he felt being outside, the sadness, the depression and everything in between.

Sleep wasn't coming to Tim, and he knew it. He was wet, cold and was starting to feel ill, as if he was coming down with something. It was still raining but time was going slow so despite the weather, he decided to go for another walk.

A few minutes down the road, more homeless people are trying to sleep, some are laying down actually managing it, others, like him don't seem to be able to. The light caught the skin of one of the people on the street and he immediately was drawn to the huge gash across their cheek, and he prayed he finally found her; there couldn't be that many people with that injury. His eyes blurred from the sickness, tiredness and rain and when they finally refocused, he could've collapsed with joy when she finally looked at him, "M... Marcella?" his voice stuttered from the low temperatures affecting him.

She looked worse than she did when she left two weeks ago and she clearly hadn't given any medical attention to her injury. He walked over to her and reached out to check her wound and she backed her head away, looking scared, as if something was stopping her from trusting him anymore.

"Why do you keep looking for me?" she snapped. Tim lowered his head and happened to notice the blood around the cuffs of the light grey jumper she's now wearing, but he waited to see if she'd actually show more of the cuffs before he reached out to inspect them; though he had an idea of what caused them and even thinking of what she had been doing to her wrists upset him."Oh, so you know I've spent the last three days trawling this side of London looking for you?" he replied.

"I heard whispers." she shot back. She didn't seem that happy to see him, and he at least hoped she would, but this was Marcella, and she's stubborn, especially when anybody shows her that they care. "But why?"

He licked his lips, "Because I found out that you're not undercover and I refuse to let you do this to yourself." he replied before lifting his head back to look at her. "I'm not leaving here without you, Marcella."


	6. Chapter 6

Marcella didn't want help, or at least that's what she tried to convince herself; it was easier that way.

"Well, tough." she barked as she stood up and started to storm off. "Because this is how it is now. For me and for you."

Tim followed her and grabbed her arm, pulling her back to look at him, "Marcella, please, listen to me." he tells her before removing his hand off of her, "Your past, is your past, you can't change that. What happened to Juliet was something that devastated you - as it would anyone - whether you did it or not, purposely or not. Everything that has happened before this moment, is your past and it's already happened, but your future can be much better than this."

"How can any of this be better? I might as well just not be here, I don't want to fucking live anymore, Tim. I'm only doing this so I can try and not be who I was because my only other option is throwing myself in front of a fucking train or something." she responded as the thunder clapped and the rain flooded down more on to them and the street.

"But that is who you are, whether you like it or not. I have spent the last three days looking for you because I hated myself for letting you go again. I mean, I despised myself, Marcella. There was a part of me that felt like you do, I felt like not wanting to be here either. I've barely eaten, barely slept and the best sleep I've had was on a park bench two nights ago. I've basically become a borderline alcoholic because of this. I've been lost without you; so lost and broken and confused." Tim admitted to her.

Finding her again just made him sad. It was all he wanted, _she_ was all he wanted but she had changed so much in such little time. He still loved her though, more than anything and he wanted nothing more to be back to the way they were. But he knew that it could be a difficult ask to get it exactly back, but he was willing to do anything to try.

"I had to beg you before to come home and I will do it again if I have to. I will get on my knees. Even if it's pissing down with rain. You can make yourself a much better future than the last 6 years has given you, with me or not. But I tell you this now; I will not allow you to put yourself down anymore than you already have when they're are so many people who still give a shit." Tim had to shout over the pounding sound of the rain still pouring to the ground. Marcella didn't seem to respond to much that he said, she was stubborn and he didn't know what to do with her, "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"I killed my fucking baby!" she screamed. "Jason hates my guts and so do my own children. You cheated on..."

Tim knew where she was going so he stopped her before it was too late, "No, I didn't. I swear to you I never did, Marcella." he shot back.

Marcella gave herself a minute to calm down, "Nobody deserves me. Nobody needs me." her voice broke. She looked at Tim and she just stared before breaking down in tears.

Tim couldn't stand it, no matter how much he thought distance is what she wanted, he had to try and get nearer to her. "Come here." he said as he walked closer and wrapped his arms around her to bring her in for a hug, something he's wanted to do for weeks. And for the first time in ages, she responded to the hug and moved her arms around his middle "We all need you, Marcella." he paused, "I need you."

Taking a deep breath, she took in Tim's scent, it wasn't the smell she remembered, but there was still some familiarity of it within the odour of rain and dirt from him. "Help me." she whispered into him. Tim frowned and broke off the hug but he kept hold of her, he didn't think she wanted him to hear that but he did, and it broke his heart to hear her utter those words. "Please, help me." she pleaded as she looked deeply into his eyes though she could barely see him through the streams of rain that fall around around them.

"I'll do whatever it takes to help you, but you can't keep pushing me away." he said. Tim moved his hand to the front of her face and used his hand to unstick her fringe from her forehead before a smile appeared on his face. "Come on, let's go home. My flat or your house?"

"No, I can't go home to mine, not yet."

"Okay." he smiled again, "Mine it is. I'll get you cleaned up, we can have some food and a drink, if that's what you want?" Marcella nodded her head and finally agreed that is what she needed. Everything she wanted was right in front of her, and though it was going to take some time, and things might never be the same again, she was prepared to at least try and get some kind of life back.

 **·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

Tim opened the door to his flat and they both entered. He went straight to the kitchen and got her a beer and one for himself, "Right, here," he said, handing her a bottle. "Give me 5 minutes then I'll get your thing cleaned and then I'll order us a lot of food." he chuckled lightly before making his way upstairs.

Marcella felt strange being back here again, but she knew it was the best place for her. It was better than the cold, wet streets anyway.

Footsteps pounded the wooden panels as he hurried back down the stairs dressed in some dry clothes and a pile of some others for her, "Here's some dry clothes, they might be a bit baggy but here..." Tim handed her some of his clothing and smiled at her. She smiled back and noticed the shirt he gave her and picked it up with only her forefinger and her thumb, she realised it's a Tottenham Hotspur football shirt with 'Williamson 40' printed on the back and she grimaced at it, "The only thing that was dry, sorry." he laughed.

"I wouldn't be seen dead in that." she joked managing to squeeze out a smile.

Tim rolled his eyes, "Give it here." he said as he took off the shirt he was wearing and handed it over for a swap.

"Thank you." she intoned cheerfully. It was the first time in a while that Tim had seen her smile in a way that looked somewhat genuine. She went off and got changed at the top of the stairs. When she returned, she handed Tim her clothes and he managed to get a proper look at her wrists and he noticed the red, bloody thin lines that cover them. He lowered his head and licked his lips when she turned away, he hated that she had resorted to self harm for whatever reason she felt she had to. It just made him beat himself up for not being there for her, for letting everything before all this fuck up. Tim didn't feel right bringing it up, so he just let it slide but he knew he would still think about all the things he could've done to stop this.

"What do you fancy to eat? Chinese? Pizza? Indian?" Marcella shrugged, she could all of his suggestions together right now, "I remember how much you loved Chinese when we were together. That'll do for ya?"

She nodded again and he grabbed his phone and ordered. "You don't have to do this, you know?" she said to him while he was ordering the food. When he hung up the phone, he turned his attention back to her. Placing his hands in his pockets for comfort, he stayed stood near the kitchen before eventually walking towards her and leaning his bum on the counter.

"I told you, I want to help you, whatever it takes." he confessed. He looked at her again, and he had to stop himself from smiling, but he knows it was failing. Tim couldn't believe that he had found her and this time she's actually talking to him, and it made him happy; happier that he had been in along time. "Now, sit."

Marcella sat on the settee while Tim filled another bowl of water, adding salt to it and grabbed the first aid kit. He joined her on the sofa with his beer and took a sip and the flavour flooded his taste buds and refreshed him. It was something he had craved so much the last few days, and though he had Marcella back – which was why he turned to it in the first place – it was a familiar taste that he had missed.

The last dressing he had stuck to her face a few weeks back was long gone and though some natural healing to her wound had occurred, it still looked pretty bad. He didn't even have to ask her to turn her head when he filled the cloth with the water, and even that made him smile to himself. Pressing the flannel to her face, she winced in discomfort and he slightly loosened the grip of it to her injury and he spent the next twenty minutes taking it off, rinsing and reapplying until it looked cleaner, he then applied the cream and a new dressing. "Done. You only had to get that seen to, Marcella. It was all I asked." he grinned as he packed away the box. He tried to make a few little joking digs at her as he wanted to make her feel more comfortable by adding some of the banter they had back.

The door knocked and he answered it, retrieving their food from the delivery guy and closed the door. The smell filled their senses, they could smell it, and they could even taste it before it was even presented in front of them ready to eat. Tim put the food on the table and Marcella began eating while he grabbed two more beers from the fridge. "Just like the good old days." she commented before letting out a small giggle.

Her smile immediately faded when she realised how much it was like it was; the last best memory she had with Tim was downing tequila shots in her kitchen and now everything felt so different. She liked being near him again, like it was, but a lot has happened between them, and sharing a beer and takeaway reminded her of that more than she expected it to.

The space between his eyebrows crinkled as he frowned, "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said but her faced faltered again, "No." Marcella started to fiddle with the rim of her beer bottle and took a minute to reflect before speaking again, "What if no matter how hard I try, I can't be what you want me to?"

"It's not about what I want. It has to be about you. But whatever happens, I'll be here." Tim reassured her, placing a comforting hand on her knee before quickly removing it, "Sorry." He didn't know why he removed his hand so quickly, he just didn't want to rush anything, but he liked being able to get this close to her again.

Marcella tried to hide the smirk that was forcing it's way to her lips but it failed too. She missed this, everything she had with Tim. Looking at him, she regretted not letting him explain after everything that happened with Maya, she regretted not working it out and stopping the embezzlement charge he faced. It pissed her off that she didn't see what was right in front of her the whole time. Looking back, Tim was never comfortable with Maya, not like he was with her, and even when they had broken up, Tim didn't embrace the full advantages of the so-called affair he was having; he could've snogged Maya's face off just to spite her, but he didn't. He's not Jason, and she wished she had seen that and maybe things would've been much different.

Tim gathered up the empty plates and the food containers and cleaned up as best he could. It was almost 5am, and he knew that he was best to try and get some sleep, "It's getting late, or should I say early? You must be shattered go and try and get some sleep. Take my bed like last time."

Marcella rose from the settee and walked round to make her way up the stairs. After going up a few steps, she stopped and turned towards him, "Could you not come up with me?" she asked as her fingertips began to glide across the wooden banister.

He looked at her with a sympathetic look in his eyes and on his face; he wanted to but he won't, not yet. But he couldn't help but wonder whether there was another reason she wanted to, like if she was scared of being on her own when she had spent so long in strange places, though Tim still wouldn't risk it. "I could. But I'm not going to." he replied softly.

"Why not?"

"Because... if me and y- I mean, if we're going to get anywhere close to what we were, it has to be done slowly. We can't just jump back into bed together and pretend nothing's changed. I'll be down here."

Marcella looked disappointed, she didn't want it for that, she just wanted some company, but she understood why he refused, he was right, things had changed for them as a couple and things had to be done gradually if things were ever going to be anywhere near what it was. Dropping her head, she looked at the stairs and just made her way up to the bedroom.

When she left, Tim exhaled and made his way back to the sofa before laying down on it and pulling the duvet he had brought over him despite knowing that he wasn't likely going to get any sleep. Instead, he pulled it over his head and cried quietly to himself. Tears of sadness, joy and anger was what caused it. There was much more pent-up emotions that he had kept inside of him the last few days while he was out on the streets and now being back home, with the woman he loved most, made them all rush out like a burst water pipe.

After a few moments of constant sobbing, her felt emotionally drained and he thought that maybe sleep would come after all and he closed his eyes. And for the first time in a while, he drifted straight to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Tim still didn't get much sleep, waking frequently through it and it had reached almost 11:30am when he woke. It felt weird to him to wake up in his own house and for a moment, he had forgot that Marcella was actually upstairs, he thought he had just given in and come home. He sat up on the settee and took a moment to wake himself up a little. It was too late for breakfast, but that wasn't going to stop him from making a full English for them both. After putting his duvet away, he tried to tidy up some of the mountains of glass bottles that scatter around the room placing them all in two bin bags to take to a bottle bank later.

Once he got to the kitchen, he put on the radio and started cooking. He took out a couple of sausages and placed them in a frying pan with small amount of oil and let them cook while he got the rest of the food ready.

His stairs creaked as Marcella made her way down them, "Hey." he greeted with a smile, "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah, I guess." she replied as Tim quickly prepared some more salt water to clean her wound again. Turning the hob down on low, he was able to leave the sausages to cook while he quickly tended to her, cleaning, creaming and dressing the gash across her cheek. When he was done, he grinned at her and she smiled back, to show her appreciation for his help.

Putting the first aid equipment away, he returned to cooking the full English he was preparing and a song started on the radio, " _I got this feelin' inside my bones. It goes electric, wavy when I turn it on._ " the song played over the radio and Tim couldn't help but sing along quietly to himself, much to the amusement of Marcella. He stopped singing while he kept an eye on the bacon under the grill and started to make two cups of tea. " _And under the lights when everything goes. Nowhere to hide when I'm gettin' you close._ " he started again when the bridge of the song began. " _When we move, well, you already know. So just imagine, just imagine, just imagine._ " As he started plating up the food, he was dancing so hard that he was going to find himself in A&E if he wasn't careful, " _Nothin' I can see but you when you dance, dance, dance. Feel a good, good creepin' up on you. So just dance, dance, dance, come on._ " Tim sung along as loudly as he could without annoying his neighbours and Marcella would've been laughing her head off it wasn't so painful for her, but she was smiling more than she had in months. He walked towards her still dancing with two plates in his hand, " _All those things I shouldn't do. But you dance, dance, dance. And ain't nobody leavin' soon, so keep dancin'_ " Tim sat down and moved his face closer to Marcella's, "I can't stop the feelin'." he sung the last line and a huge grin grew on his face.

She laughed again and started to eat her food. "It's been far too long since I've had a breakfast like this. It's been years."

"Excuse me? I made you one in bed a few months ago. For your birthday."

"Oh, yeah." she replied, after a brief moment to remember it. "But this is miles better. But maybe that's because I've barely eaten in three weeks."

They continued to eat their food and drink their tea and when they finished eating, Tim took the plates over to the kitchen and placed them inside the dishwasher and Marcella followed, "You can put the TV on if you want."

"Morning TV? No, thanks. I'd rather be living back on the streets than that." Marcella joked. Tim didn't like her making jokes about being back out there, as all he wanted to do now was just keep her close and safe; and being out there was far from that. When Tim looked away, Marcella lowered her own head, "Sorry." she murmured, apologising for speaking about something she knew he would hate now.

Looking back up, Tim smiled and handed her a bin bag, "Make yourself useful." he requested. "Hold that open while I pick up the rest of my rubbish." Marcella's eyes rolled and she laughed to herself as they made their way over to the living room. Most of his beer bottles were in a bin bag and now it was just mountains of takeaway and pizza boxes that he did manage to eat during the time she was gone, there wasn't many, but there was enough general rubbish that required a bin bag to clean it.

Tim tied up the bag and put it near the front door ready to take out shortly. He moved things back to their rightful positions in the room and sprayed what seemed like half a can of air freshener around.

The room started to look like it did just a month ago and it reminded Tim of the situation he found himself in; it reminded him how much one woman meant to him, and how her supposed death made him contemplate things he never thought he would. He'd be lying if he said he didn't at least once consider the unthinkable, there were times he was struggling to be without her, and it wasn't just because they weren't together anymore but it was the fact that he thought she was dead. Tim started to come to terms with the break-up, despite it being the last thing he wanted. He wished he had been honest, he knows he should've been, but like he said to Marcella; everything that's happened before this moment is his past, and as much as he wish he could, he can't change that.

"I'm taking these down the road to the bottle bank if you fancy a little walk?" Tim asked as he grabbed the two bin bags and unlocked the front door. Marcella nodded and put on her shoes and a jumper, and they both made their way out of the flat and took a 10 minute walk to it.

Being apart for so long, they thought they'd have more to talk about, but things were still a little awkward between them. Neither of them were sure if they wanted to discuss what had happened before all of this, but Marcella at least thought that if she was going to trust him in that way again, she needed to know the truth. They reached their destination and started the task at hand. It took her a few minutes to get up the courage to even bring it up what she knew she needed to, "What really happened with Maya, Tim?" she asked, much to her relief to hopefully get the conversation going. Tim stopped what he was doing and looked at her, "I have to know."

Tim continued putting the bottles into the bank, hoping it would help the words just flow out, but to begin with he was stuck for an explanation. So much had happened since his promotion and the Whitman case, that he briefly forgot what it was even about. He took a deep breath before speaking, "When I was promoted, the Chief Super presented me with a case, against the Whitmans. It was mainly a case against Maya, but they wanted me to keep an eye on Vince too. The police had been sent an anonymous tip that The Whitman Foundation had been embezzling money into an offshore account – which ultimately came back to bite me on the arse. Anyway, as I started looking into it and getting closer, I found out that some of the money was being used to fund prostitution and drugs on some yacht abroad about ten years ago. And I was worried there was more that the police didn't know about."

Marcella frowned, she knew about that case, Becky was one of the woman, "Maya was involved?" she wondered, though it was more a question of shock than wonder.

"Yeah. How do you know about it?"

She knew she had to tell the truth, "I, erm, I got Mark to dig up some dirt on her. He found that." she admitted as she handed him some of the bottles from the second bag. "So Maya funded all of that?"

Tim didn't want to push it, he technically wasn't her boss at the moment, and he certainly wasn't going to complain about what she did. "I mean, I think so." he replied. After another brief pause, he turned his attention to her, "Look." he started before lowering his head and licking his lips again, "I never slept with her. I got close, I flirted, we kissed a few times, mainly only in front of you. But I promise you, I swear on your life, I never had sex with her." Marcella knew that Tim wouldn't swear on her life unless he meant it. She has known for a long time just what she meant to him.

She looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. "This is all my fault, isn't it?" she wept, and she brushed away the tears that fell down her cheek from her eyes.

"No, it's not, don't be silly. It's mine." he replied. He walked closer to her, and pulled her in for a hug and she wrapped her arms around his waist. "Actually, let's blame both of us. I won't take the whole blame." he said, eliciting a laugh from Marcella.

When the broke off the hug, they kept hold of each other for a few moments and their eyes locked. They both began to feel what they did before everything, the feelings were coming back; though for Tim they never left, but Marcella spent so long trying to forget they were there, but since being back close to him, she realised she wanted him back.

They finished putting the bottles in the bank before making their way back to the flat.

 **·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

Back inside, it was still early and Marcella already felt bored. She was always used to working a case, having something to occupy her mind and it was strange to her not to have that. There wasn't much in Tim's flat to keep her mind working long enough; all of his Whitman case files had been given back to the officers in charge of the embezzlement case and he doesn't have the copies, so she couldn't even work on that to help him.

She barely watched TV at home and the choice of shows at this time of the day made her feel like gouging her eyes out. Looking at Tim's bookshelf, it wasn't much of a surprise the type of books on his shelf. There were a few classic novels, some other books she's never heard of and a bunch of law and police guides. She took one of the police guides off the shelf and started flicking through it, and even that was making her miss the job.

Tim could see it was upsetting her, so he walked over to her and took it out of her hand and placed it back where it was. Their eyes locked again when his head turned back towards hers and they shared a look that neither of them have with each other in so long. As she looked at him and studied his face and despite the mass of facial hair that covered it, she saw the old Tim under there; the way his head cocked slightly to the left whenever he looked at her, the way his pupils dilated fully enough that only some of the blue of his irises remained but they were still as bright as ever.

Her hand slowly made it's way towards his face and her fingers started to lightly glide across his beard. Tim closed his eyes and smiled, he wanted to just lose himself in the moment – a moment he's not had for a long time – but he knew he should break it off, before it got more than it should. He didn't want to rush anything not when he only just got her back but he'd be lying if he didn't want to respond to her actions. He lightly grabbed hold of her hand, holding it for a beat before slowly moving it away, much to her disappointment which Tim could sense.

"Look, I have an idea." he said after a minute, "How about we have a date?" he suggested met with a smile from Marcella, "Don't worry, we don't even have to leave the house. I can cook, or we can order and we get to know each other again."

"What? We already know each other, Tim." she sighed.

"No, not the way we used to."

"Okay, so how do you suggest we do this?"

"We dress like a first date, we treat it like a first date, we pretend as if we barely know each other and we forget everything that's happened over the last month or so. And we do all of it here, save us from feeling too exposed." he advised. Marcella liked the idea, but it still felt a little daunting.


	8. Chapter 8

As 7pm approached, Marcella sat in Tim's bedroom where she slept the night before. She earlier got around to leaving the house and go to town to get herself a dress to wear, she would've gone home but she felt she still wasn't ready to go back there yet. Being outside without Tim felt overwhelming for her, but she managed to get through it and found herself a dress that she liked.

The outfit was draped nicely on the bed and she made her way to the bathroom. Cleaning her own wound, she put some cream onto it and freshly dressed it before fully cleaning her face. She would've put some make up on, but with her injury, it was difficult but she knew that Tim wouldn't care whether she wore any or not.

In the living room, and using the small mirror on the wall, Tim plugged in his electric razor and begins removing the hair from his face that makes up his beard. It was almost a little strange to him to see his own face again properly as he had started to get used to the facial hair. But he started to feel like he did before the last month and he definitely wanted to do that.

He didn't have much food to cook with so he decided to order their favourite takeaway. Once he had ordered, he tidied up the living room, hoovering the hair from the floor and then changed into a suit.

Tim wanted to make this as special as he could. He started to make up the little table in the kitchen. Finding an old, but clean tablecloth, he threw it down gently on the table and smoothed out the creases. Two plates, knives and forks were then put onto the table and he just waited for the food to arrive.

The door later knocked and he retrieved the food and plated it up before putting a bottle of beer near each plate. Marcella eventually made her way downstairs and Tim met her at the bottom of the steps. The grin on his face was hard to hide, and he didn't even try. The He took hold of her hand and directed her to the kitchen.

It wasn't as glamorous as he felt it could've been but Marcella still loved the effort. As Tim moved around to pull out her chair, he looks towards her, "Okay, ground rules." he states. Marcella walked over to Tim and sat down before he pushed the chair back towards the table. "No talking about our past, we only talk about what we want in our future. That means we don't talk about ex-partners, our jobs, anything that has happened in our past. Because now, we're building for our future and our past doesn't need to be involved in that."

"Deal." she smiles.

Before they started to eat, Tim picked up his bottle and held it towards her, "To _us_." he toasted and they clinked their bottles together. They both let out a little giggle as they took a drink. "So, tell me about you. And remember, nothing about the past." Tim started, smirking broadly.

Marcella didn't know what to say using his rules, so she had to think for a little while. "Um, okay." she hesitated but she still didn't continue and Tim laughed.

"Look, how about I start." he chuckled, Before thinking long and hard, still unable to come up with anything himself, "Hmm, I may have complicated things with this." he admitted with a chuckle. Marcella herself laughed, and Tim immediately smiled broadly. Her laugh was something that constantly made him smile.

"Okay, new plan." she said. "We can talk about our past, but none of the shitty bits. Which in my case is a lot of them. But I promise, I will never mention them again." she vowed.

Tim smiled and looked at her, "That's a plan I can get behind." he agreed as he took a mouthful of his food.

"Do you think you'll get your job back?" Marcella reluctantly asked. She knew she should've started with something better, but she somehow couldn't think of anything.

"Don't know. I need to prove my innocence first. I'm not going back to being a DCI any time soon, that's for sure. I could be saying 'Hello DS Williamson' again."

Marcella wanted to help him, but she didn't know how. Even she wasn't sure if she wanted to be a police officer again, and she knew that she couldn't just waltz back into the police station as if nothing happened. A lot had happened, they saw the state she left that sink before she walked out, not to mention whacking Rav over the head with a toilet cistern lid.

"Not sure if I even want to go back." he said. He looked at Marcella before speaking again, "Don't think it would even matter that much without you."

"You managed 11 years without me being there." she scoffed, letting out a little laugh.

"Yeah, but since you came back, it's made the job much more worth it. I don't know if I can do it anymore if you're not there."

The corner of Marcella's mouth turned upwards in a smirk, "Tim, look," she said, getting his attention by grabbing his hand, "You are a fantastic police officer, with or without me there. You didn't become a DCI because of me, you worked at it for over fifteen years, I wasn't there for like eleven of them, and you still found yourself marching up those ranks. And that wasn't because of me, it was because of you. So, even if you were demoted, I believe that eventually, you can get back to where you were, even withou-"

Marcella's sentence was silenced by Tim's leaning across the table and his lips pressed against hers. She tried so hard to resist it, she wanted to, but she couldn't because she also wanted it so much. There was a lot of discomfort from her injury, but she didn't care. She placed her hand on his face, and kissed him back, passionately and lovingly. It was something they haven't done in what feels like forever, and it was almost as if nothing had happened between them.

He broke off the kiss and Marcella looked at him again, "Sorry." he apologised, lowering his head with a smile.

Marcella wasn't sure what to do, she didn't need an apology, she wanted him, and only him. But he was the one who suggested they take it slowly, and she agrees, but they can't hide from what they want. "I don't need a fucking apology." she snapped as she got up off the chair. She didn't mean to get upset, and she could see that Tim didn't expect it, "I just want _us_ back. But you wouldn't come to bed with me last night for fear of ruining things and yet here you are kissing me." her softened voice said.

"Everything I have said to you, I have meant. A couple of weeks ago, before you left again, I told you I loved you. I told you that I wanted us to be back the way we were because I missed what we had. And I told you that you are the woman I've always wanted. It was true then, and it's still true now. Why do you think I suggested this? Because we needed to just do something that eased us back into that. I kissed you because I wanted to, and I've wanted to since I saw you again. I didn't come to bed with you last night because it was your first night back and I wanted to just ease into this." Tim's voice broke and he had to hold back the tears that pooled in his eyes.

"I'm sor-"

Walking up to her, he caressed her face like he used to. When he stopped, his hand settled on her cheek and it stayed there, "Marcella Backland, you are an almighty pain in the fucking arse, but I bloody love you. I've never stopped loving you since the moment I met you. Of course I want us back. I could do with the company to sleep tonight, and I want nothing more than to share a bed with you again."

Tim's smile grew wider, and he leaned his face forward to kiss her again. His hands ran down her upper back as hers hooked around the back of his neck. "I've missed you and I'm really sorry I doubted you." Marcella admitted during a brief break from their kiss as their lips hovered over one another's before moving their heads away slightly so they could talk again.

"And I'm sorry for everything that happened. I never meant for it to become the way it did, I never meant to hurt you. And I'm sorry for what I said in your kitchen that night about people leaving you, it was a horrible comment that I said out of anger and I shouldn't have said it, so I'm so sorry. I never want to lose you again."

They quickly put away their things, Tim cleaned her wound and they took themselves upstairs. They weren't going to have sex with each other just yet, it wasn't the right time, but they just wanted the company that they both had missed and craved so much. As they both climbed into bed, Tim immediately gave Marcella the opportunity to snuggle closer to him, and she took the moment in a heartbeat. "I love you." she said as she planted a kiss to his chest.

Tim smiled, "I love you too." he replied. Marcella tightened herself around him and before he knew it, she had fallen asleep in that position, snuggled tightly into his chest.

The last month had been a nightmare for both of them, but sometimes it seems that you have to go through hell together to see how strongly you're willing to fight or one another. Tim started to realise that despite them falling apart so much that it almost seemed beyond repair, it actually made things easier to fix because he convinced them both that all they needed was a fresh piece of paper, or material to start a new story. They didn't have to return to the old one, or try and re-write it. Not when so much more can be made from starting again; and that's what he wanted to do, even if it took the rest of his life.


End file.
